


Muffins and Almanacs

by Abra_ca_fuck_you



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Anniversary, Fluff, M/M, Wrote this instead of working on my multichap, au where everything doesnt go to shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-04 15:49:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14596380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abra_ca_fuck_you/pseuds/Abra_ca_fuck_you
Summary: A little fluffy scene on Lem and Emmanuel's First anniversary, because i like to pretend that nothing has ever gone wrong and these kids are in love and have no stress.





	Muffins and Almanacs

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't finished wih but i imagine that everything eventually goes to shit, so instead of that, everything is nice and domestic. also this totally hasnt had more than like, a quick edit.

Emmanuel’s Rosemerrow apartment is modest, but nice. His favorite crepe pan hangs proudly on the wall beside his stove. And he has several boxes of herbs crammed in the only window such that you can barely see out it. A stack of books serves as the bedside table for Lem’s side of the bed, and his spare pair of glasses rest there.

Today’s an occasion, but it doesn’t feel like it. Emmanuel hums as he pulls out a tray of lemon poppy muffins. Lem sits at the kitchen island with a dreamy look on his face.

* * *

 

It was Lem who mentioned the significance of the date, about a week ago. It took Emmanuel a moment to catch on, before nodding with a blush.

“I suppose that day is... yes.”

“I was thinking I’d take you out... somewhere.”

“Oh please, there’s no better place to eat than Chez Emmanuel,” Emmanuel shook his head and topped off Lem’s teacup. Although his concern is less about where they’d get a decent meal than how they’d pay for it.

* * *

 

Emmanuel’s apron hangs low on his hips, and there’s a puff of flour when he wipes his hands before leaning over the kitchen counter to press a kiss to Lem’s forehead. A fond smile crosses Lem’s face.

“Strange, that a year ago we were fighting on a boat”

“Your heart wasn’t quite in it, if i remember correctly,” Emmanuel quips.

“I could say the same about you,”

“I’m a pastry chef, not a pirate.”

“You were a pirate then.”

Emmanuel laughs, and puts a muffin in front of Lem, “A lot has changed, my dear.”

Lem nods, and peels down one side of the muffin’s lining. They smell divine, and his stomach growls for lunch.

Emmanuel starts drizzling a lemon glaze over the top of the reast of the batch, humming a tune he picked up from Lem.

“There, the birch, with it’s papery bark,” Lem chimes in.

“Oh, the pine, where i met mine,” Emmanuel replies, a couple notes higher.

Neither of them sing about how the trees crack and fall. Their humming instead fades into nothing.

Lem pulls a box out of his bag, and has it resting on the counter, when Emmanuel turns back around.

The box is covered in a delicate silk, bound by a matching bow.

“Is this for me?” Emmanuel asks, holding a wooden spoon covered in glaze. Lem nods, and pulls the spoon towards himself, licking up the back of it. Emmanuel laughs, and taps the spoon against Lem’s tusk, making him wrinkle his nose. Emmanuel finishes cleaning the spoon, before taking the box into his hands.

“The present is uh, inside of it,” Lem says.

“I know, I know. I just don’t get presents often.”

“Oh, should I get you more presents?” Lem asks immediately.

“No no no, you are a present enough, Lem.”

Lem blushes and looks down at his clasped hands, “Please just, open the present please.”

Emmanuel smiles, and pulls the ribbon with a flourish.

“A stick?” Emmanuel asks, lifting it out of the box.

“It’s a handle,” Lem says, leaning forward to point at the end, “you can screw on the whatever here. It’s carved with Orcish tusk patterns, well a specific one that’s supposed to make food taste better I’m not entirely sure how well it’ll, er, apply. But-“ Emmanuel lifts the end of the handle to his lips and kisses the tip of Lem’s finger. Lem pulls his finger away with a yelp of surprise, making Emmanuel crack up.

“Now for my present,” Emmanuel says, stepping away from the counter.

“You mean its not the muffins?”

“I would’ve baked them anyways,” Emmanuel says with a sing song tone, reaching into a cabinet. He pulls out a book, wrapped in some brown paper stamped with purple ink, and slides it across the counter.

Lem smiles, and carefully removes the wrapping so as to not rip it.

“The Nacre Citizen’s Almanac, of the 3rd Year of Adelaide?” Lem reads the cover, trying to hold back his nerdiest emotions.

“Uh... yeah?”

“This is...” Lem trails off, flipping to a page about the numbers of ghosts passing on, “The most... amazing thing you could’ve gotten me,” he looks up at Emmanuel, his dark eyes shiny.

“... really?”

Lem laughs and kisses Emmanuel across the counter, his big hand on his shoulder.


End file.
